


Lonely in Your Nightmare

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Post-Sirius in Azkaban, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:51:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5932303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius tries to recover from his inheritance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely in Your Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

It was cold. Even his thick, heavy robe did not block that ice-feeling out.

He walked through what was left of the old house. It had been destroyed long ago, burnt by the fire. But he could smell the smoldering remains, see piles scattered about, the little embers still shining.

His boots caused crackling noises beneath his feet.

No-one had been here in years... He almost wished he could cry, the emotions were too strong, too heavy, but something was holding them in. Something was...

" **I'm** here." The voice was disembodied, slightly echoing. He froze, trying to locate the speaker. He hadn't heard her voice in so long, he didn't even remember the last words they had spoken to each other.

"Astral?"

In the silence that followed, he took a few more steps. "Where are you?" He swallowed. "Are they with you?"

It was as cold as Azkaban and full of ghosts from the past. Darkness poured in, covering him like a clinging liquid. He was blind; fear took his breath.

He awoke with a jump. For a moment, he thought the sweat on his body was the darkness still touching him. But the moonlight was coming in from the window - the full moon had been only a few nights before.

Stupid dream.

He shivered. Cool air came from the window, half-opened as Remus preferred it. Sirius clambered clumsily out of bed and shut it. He stood there, looking out. Generally, the closing of the window preluded pleasurable things as Remus thanked him for closing it, but the dream had come too early; Remus still slept. He sighed.

The dream had started since the letter had arrived, informing him of his inheritance. But it wasn't even accurate; his parents' house hadn't been burned. It stood yet, though its gardens were demolished and its walls besmeared by graffiti.

But he wasn't going back to it. He wasn't.

He crawled back into bed, tucking his head into the crook of Remus' neck, miserably huddled against him. His lover stirred.

"Sirius... what happened?" Arms rose to encircle him, hazel eyes examined his face in the soft light, taking note of the sheen on his forehead. "You're sweating." Sirius said nothing as Remus used the sheet to dry his skin. "Another dream?"

"Yes," he replied at last. "Same one."

Remus settled onto his side, facing him. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." What would be the point? There was nothing else to say. Sirius shivered again and tugged the blankets further over himself.

Remus was still scrutinising him. "Perhaps we should visit your parents' house; that's what triggered all of this. Maybe if --"

"I don't want to see it. I don't want to **think** about it." And he didn't, he wanted to forget its existence. Sirius looked at his lover, reaching between them to clasp his hand. Edging nearer, he felt the faint smile on Remus' lips as they kissed. He smiled, too, a quiet happiness filling him for the first time that day.

He was already hard as he gently sucked an earlobe and heard the resulting breathy moans. He continued behind the ear, nuzzling the sensitive skin there. Remus arched against him sinuously. "More, Paddy." Lovely hoarse voice.

Their bodies, knowing exactly what to do, aligned perfectly. Sirius felt the soft skin beneath him, radiating warmth. Little by little, his hands followed the curves of the slender form that always drove him mad, his gentle caresses contrasting with Remus' harsh, increasingly desperate grabs. His lover's passion inflamed him, and he hurried to satisfy them both. When they came, their mouths were pressed together, muffling their cries.

Sirius buried his nose in the moisture of Remus' neck, scenting its comforting familiarity. He barely heard his lover's soft voice saying his name. He knew Remus understood his attempts at hiding; he always understood and accepted.

"I love you, Moony."

Remus stroked his hair until Sirius adjusted their positions to have them nestled side-by-side. The honey-hazel eyes were drowsy, he saw with regret; it had really been too early for such activities and Remus was still recovering from the transformation's effects.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." he murmured. He had to tilt his head to catch the reply.

"Sirius, if I hadn't wanted to, you would have known. And I did want to."

Sirius took his hand again and kissed it. He didn't let go until it had relaxed in his own and Remus' breath came slow and deep. He watched him for a while, but finally rose. No, he definitely wasn't going to sleep.

+++++

Downstairs, he walked through various rooms, feeling like he was in one of his dreams. Entering the parlor, he sat down in a random chair. The brightness shining in through the glass doors, he glanced through the books on the table.

But the words proved weak compared to his thoughts. How long would this go on? Things had been so well here in their home as they'd all attempted to put the past behind them.

How typical that he was the one to spoil everything.

He thought about what Remus had said. Going back. But he honestly couldn't see the benefit. The house was gone, what matter if the details in his head didn't match the reality?

He couldn't sell it. He could just conceive the type of person who'd want to buy it. The name of Sirius Black had lost much of its terror, but still had the fame. Notoriety-seekers, gossips, or worst of all, sympathisers.

(You're Sirius Black? Oh, I can't imagine how awful it must have been for you...")

He couldn't stand their apologies, their completely useless words of condolence. Well, guess what? they didn't fucking change anything.

So he was stuck with his inheritance, yet another scar to add to the collection. Another symbol of his failure. His hand clenched round his book and for a long moment, he ached to throw the thing.

He couldn't let the pain affect him further. He had to gain control of the situation. He had to.

But he hurled the book across the room. Grabbed the others on the table and did the same with them, hearing them slide on the floor and crash into the furniture with a hollow bang. He pulled hard at his hair, trying to calm himself before it got worse. The mixture of grief and anger trapping his voice in his throat; he wanted to cry...

The sudden yank on his arm startled Sirius. He pulled away, but the hold didn't let go. He thought it was Remus for a second, but then came his godson's voice.

"Just let it go."

Sirius gasped and struggled to speak. He shook his head. "I can't, I mustn't!"

He felt so terrible as Harry led him over to the sofa, plumped him down on it, and held him tight. Harry shouldn't have to do this. Sirius was ashamed to look at him. "I'm sorry. I should be stronger," he was finally able to say.

Harry seemed to think about that. "Why?" he asked. "Why do you have to?"

"... because you need to be safe." His voice was a dry whisper.

His godson pulled back slightly and regarded him. "Do you hold back with Remus? Do you think I wouldn't understand, Sirius?"

"No. I mean, you would, but --"

"But nothing! Listen, I'm not a child, Sirius. I know you want to protect me from life, but, well, it's too late for that now. You know I've had to go against things no-one should have to, but **I'm still here**. All of you helped me fight and survive and **live.** " His voice dropped lower but retained its determination. "Please, let me help you."

Sirius looked at him through damp eyes. There was so much he could say to Harry. So much **to** say. Instead, he leaned on a shoulder that was now as broad as his, a shoulder as strong as his own. Perhaps more.

He closed his eyes.

+++++

The sound of slippers on the stairs made Harry turn toward the doorway. His godfather still rested against him and he was still slightly amazed that Sirius had not shut him out again.

Remus carefully sat down beside them. He glanced round at the mess in the room and with a gentle wave of the wand, the books returned neatly to the table-top. His gaze returned to them. "Is he alright?"

Harry peered at Sirius. "I think so." He hesitated. "I hope I didn't make things worse."

Looking at the dried tear-marks on his lover's face, Remus doubted it. He hadn't cried since the day that package had arrived. Perhaps some settlement had been reached for Sirius, perhaps his godson had been able to get through to him.

He curled up on the sofa and waited with Harry.


End file.
